Chapter Five
Paxton
The blanket Nico grabbed from his bed was cartoonish, anime of some kind, and he had tucked it under his arm as if hiding it from me.
Interesting. Alone in his room, I gave myself a tour.
Without the fancy blanket, the bed was ordinary.
Nice with soft, decent thread-count sheets and a mountain of comforters to keep out the winter’s chill.
Fluffy pillows and rustic but polished furniture.
None of that was out of the ordinary. But the fact that it belonged to Nico made it special.
If I could have thought of a way to make it happen that wouldn’t come off badly, I’d be spending the night sharing it with him.
But we’d done the usual host-guest only-one-bed tap dance and wound up here.
With the man I’d always wished was more than a friend sleeping in the next room.
Not meaning to pry, I moved around the room, taking in his choices of decor, of items he chose to be surrounded by in his most intimate space.
Outside the windows, snow fell, and gusts of wind occasionally buffeting the glass. The lights flickered then settled. I hoped we wouldn’t lose power, although the fireplace would keep us warm. It was not a good thing for me to take his bed, while he got stuck on the couch, but I wasn’t his daddy.
Yet.
Would he even want a daddy? I turned my attention away from the winter wonderland to take in the items on his shelves.
When we were friends and coworkers, I had no reason to visit his bedroom, although I had been at his home for dinner a few times or to meet up when going out with other friends.
He’d always been a tidy person, or made the effort to give that impression when he had guests.
What I’d seen today told me it was just his nature.
He had made it clear he was not expecting any guests, but everything I’d seen from the sparsely furnished office to his living room, kitchen, bedroom, and bath were neat and tidy.
Being back in his presence made it seem as if there had been no time lost between us.
He looked even better with the few pounds he’d gained filling him out.
He’d been too thin back in the day, making me always want to feed him.
I’d taken to baking a couple of times a week and bringing treats into the office.
An entirely new endeavor for me, and I almost didn’t have the nerve to share my first efforts.
In fact, Nico was the only one brave enough to try one batch of cookies that had a curiously floury taste.
But, after a while, practice made if not perfect, then at least edible, and every cookie, muffin, cream puff, and cupcake I brought in was gobbled up.
Nico had cheered me on as I gained skill. I had sometimes wondered if he missed my baking after I left or if he was relieved not to have to eat sugary treats so often.
While his bedroom was neat and clean, he had shelves lining the walls.
On them were toys. Many people collected them, and some were indeed new in box, various figures of anime and other cartoon characters, and they were all in good condition, but enough appeared to have been played with to make me wonder if they were indeed a collection or perhaps something more.
On the wall opposite the collectibles, there were a much more telling group of stuffies.
Their condition was while not loved to death, certainly not saved for possible future value.
I left the other items behind and picked up a teddy bear with an ear that had been sewed back on at some point.
The bear was soft and cuddly, and as adorable as Nico himself.
I supposed they could be toys from his childhood, but somehow I didn’t think so.
Especially when I spotted a gray plushie bunny with big floppy ears that I happened to know was a recent release from a popular manufacturer.
It had been the most popular item at the club the previous winter.
So many littles had the identical stuffie that a tussle broke out one night after a whole lot of cookies were consumed, with two littles each insisting the bunny was theirs.
The next night, a poster was mounted on the little room door announcing that night’s craft was making name tags for stuffies. Glitter optional.
Pure. Genius.
I’d been present when the fray happened, something very rare in the little room, but these bunnies were prized pets.
Maybe Nico would like a name tag for his bunny?
I picked up the stuffie and stroked its silky fur.
The black button eyes seemed to stare into my soul.
“Is your person a little?” I asked the critter. “Or does he just like cute things?”
And if he was, had he recognized the fact back in the day?
I heard sounds of movement on the other side of the door and before I could stop myself, set the bunny back in its spot and crossed the room to head out there.
Nico looked up from where he was fluffing a pillow. “Did you need something?”
“A glass of water,” I ad-libbed. “You still up?”
“Not for long. I’m ready to hit the hay.”
“Your room is nice,” I said. “You’re a collector?”
“What? Oh, yes, I guess I am. Mostly I just like things around that make me happy.”
“Makes sense. I feel the same about people who make me happy.”
He flashed a sudden grin. “Anyone in particular?”
“Hmm…I’ll have to think about it.” Stepping into the kitchen, I wondered why I was being so indirect. Not a problem I had in any other aspect of my life. I found a glass in the cupboard next to the sink and filled it with cold water from the tap.
“Got what you need?” he called.
“Yes.” I returned to the living room where Nico was snuggled on the sofa, his cartoony blanket pulled up to his chin. My fingers flexed with the desire to tuck him in. “You look comfortable.” Maybe he’d like one of his stuffies? “Can I bring you anything from your room?”
“No, I think I’ve got it all.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to say, “Not even your teddy or bunny?” but I cowardly bit it back.
Fear of rejection had haunted me since we were together before, and even though there was more than one little at the club who had hinted that they would be interested in having more than a one-night playdate, I hadn’t been interested.
The scenes filled a need, more or less, but no one had ever found the place in my heart held by Nico who I’d been too cowardly to open up to.
Would that continue now?